Frank Black Francis

The former/current Pixies frontman creates a prequel-- and sequel-- to his famous band's work. On the first disc of this two-disc set, Black unearths pre-Pixies demos; on the second, he revisits his own older material with a new band and new arrangements.

You can say this for Frank Black: The man cares about his fans. The liner notes for his archival record Frank Black Francis-- the latest in his long string of solo albums, but the first to sport both of his stage names simultaneously and focus on Pixies material-- fret almost comically that the album will either not provide listeners value for their money, or will anger them because he's chosen to tamper with his classic material.

Well, there's certainly no question that his concerns are well-founded. The first disc-- a set of solo acoustic demos Black recorded at producer Gary Smith's Allston, Mass., apartment before the Pixies hit the studio for their legendary first sessions at Fort Apache-- isn't going to speak to anyone who doesn't already know the material inside and out. Those who do, however, will no doubt lose their shit for a chance to hear these naked versions of some of the best-loved Pixies songs. Black's stated concern that the quality of the recordings is too bootleg is actually misplaced. Although it was recorded into Smith's cassette Walkman with nothing more than a little reverb added, the tape sounds startlingly fresh and clear. Plus, Black's disarming asides and spirited performance give the recordings a verve that helps them stand up well in the face of the canonical final versions that we've all played half to death (they're too good to ever really be killed).

On the other hand, the second disc-- newly recorded version of 13 Pixies tracks-- is a total oddity. Many listeners who will salivate while the first disc spins might find themselves choking back the bile while listening to the second. Our relationship with the artists who change us the most are funny things, and hearing the songs of one of those bands as radically re-interpreted as they are here can be jarring, even upsetting, if you don't keep an open mind about it. Black, mostly independent of the rest of the Pixies (Joey Santiago does pop in for "additional editing"), re-recorded these stone-cold Pixies classics with Two Pale Boys, veterans of collaboration with Pere Ubu's David Thomas, and as re-workings go, these amount to total detonations of their forebears.

Once you get past the fact that you're hearing "Subbacultcha" re-imagined as a Tom Waits-ian electro-acoustic coffee shop rant or "Caribou" as if it dropped out of Wayne Coyne's back pocket, Black and the Boys-- known to their mothers as Andy Diagram and Keith Moline-- actually have done a pretty interesting job of "messing with the gospel," as Black puts it in his liners. It's not all successful, however: "Velouria" is tragically slaughtered by a lugubrious pace and intestinal bass, while "Monkey Gone to Heaven" needs the Pixies' mayhem more than the bendy elasto-synths it gets here. And the limping ambient version of "Where Is My Mind?" is what I imagine being killed with plastic cocktail swords would be like.

But three strikeouts in 13 at-bats won't necessarily lose you a game, and the mind-bending readings of "Caribou" and "Nimrod's Son" are home runs that help to validate the endeavor. "Caribou" finds Black's falsetto in unusually supple, tender form as a whirling electronic background swells and pulses with his every vocal tic, while "Nimrod's Son" becomes seasick burlesque wrapped in a dubby echo. "Wave of Mutilation" playfully nods to the Doolittle arrangement as "waves" of manipulated static wash over the chorus. Is there anything here that bests or equals an original? Absolutely not, but at least the trio land some punches and go down swinging.

Back on Disc 1, "Caribou" positively burns with razor-throated intensity, even as Black quickly explains to Smith, "I'm supposed to be screaming here," and then veers off into wild shrieks and alley cat noises. He does his best to convey the basic outline of the weird "Broken Face" intro, but otherwise gives the song a good, rapid-fire run-through, and his Spanish accent is remarkably authentic on both "Vamos" and "Isla de Encanta". In all my years of listening to Black surrounded by other guitarists, I don't think it ever occurred to me how much facility the man himself has with the six-string. Here, his percussive strumming, odd picking patterns, and animated runs are impressive, often providing clues to these song's eventual arrangements.

If you've read this far and you're not familiar with the Pixies' studio albums, please understand that under no circumstances should you begin your acquaintance with the band's material here. There are whole Pixies albums for that, and they're all worth owning. Those of you who have been with the band since the days of torn flannel and 120 Minutes are obviously the target audience of this release, which is a thoughtful presentation of what essentially was the final unreleased material in the Pixies vault. The second disc is ultimately little more than a curiosity for most-- and will no doubt be complete anathema for some-- but given that the entire package retails for a single-disc price, that's hardly a reason for a die-hard to opt out. The fact is, as a fan, I enjoyed the hell out of hearing Black's demos, and my guess is you will too.